Night Vision
by StoryType
Summary: Unable to stand it anymore, Simon breaks a longstanding ritual. But will he love himself tomorrow? (G-rated Alvon gen fic.)


It was the flashlight beam in his eyes. It was _always_ the flashlight beam shining in his eyes.

Why it was that which snapped him awake, and not the body on top of him, or the urgent voice wanting him desperately, he didn't know. His eyes had always been intensely sensitive to almost everything, and 'everything' usually seemed to have a giant, stupid, yellow "A" on it.

"Simon? _Simon! Si, wake up! C'mon, get up! I know you're awake, Si..."_

"Alvin," he groaned, heavily. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, Alvin would let him be, for once.

…Unlike the other two-hundred and twenty-five times. So much for that probability.

"What do you have against letting me sleep?"

"But this is important! I neeeeeeed your help, Simon, come on!" Alvin shook his fistful of covers and blue pajamas for emphasis.

"Alvin. As much as I'd enjoy making you beg me until the sun comes up—"

"Oh, don't think I wouldn't!" Of course, Alvin could still sound enthusiastic and cocky at whatever unfathomable hour this actually was.

Eyes still closed, Simon reached out and grabbed the flashlight away, first blind swing, and shut it off.

Not like he wasn't used to groping for things he could barely see, anyway. Utterly inferior vision and repeatedly totalling his glasses had turned into something of a strength, at this point. Simon sat up — shifting balance and dislodging his brother with a squeak — reached out for Alvin's sneakers, and began unlacing with a purpose.

"Si…?"

Simon kept his face set in a frown, blessed blue dark light flooding his eyes. "We're not _nocturnal._ You realize that."

"Yeah, so?" Alvin put his hands on his hips.

"So, we'll do it in the morning, whatever it is." Simon let his other shoe drop. "Just get into bed, Alvin. Take your hat off, and get into bed."

"I—" Even Alvin seemed to be out of words at this time of night.

Simon moved his covers in invitation. "Clearly, you don't want to sleep in _your_ bed, and I have to be involved, whatever it is, so just get in…" He was too tired to even try for his usual 'withering'.

He felt Alvin shift in, at his back. Defiantly, Alvin grabbed for his hand, locking their fingers together.

Simon didn't care. It made a nice switch from roaming the streets at this hour...

* * *

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Everything was quiet and still. The room was a blur, just pre-dawn, a corner of his mind calculated. _Well, that was… Huh. My subconscious must have_ **really** _wanted a change with Alvin,_ he thought, rolled over, and slid back into the deep, dreamy peace of sleep.

"…Um, Alvin? Did you have a nightmare?" The cautious, whispering question made Simon realize their room was now filled with sun, their other brother was three inches away…

…And Alvin was fast asleep, cuddled underneath his arm. Simon swallowed, realizing how very warm and comfortable his bed was, then very, very cautiously, sat up, shaking his head. "No, Theodore. _I_ did."

"Oh. I know what that's like, but I've had practice. You two aren't used to it, I guess. Well, I'll let both of you sleep." Theodore tiptoed out.

Alone, Simon slid back down, calm, flat, and still on his pillow, and yet his heart kept pounding. Was this a bad dream that wouldn't end, and if true, then why had he slept so well? As close as he dared, not wanting more disturbance, he inched back to the way they were, trying to appreciate this warm, peaceful, unaware Alvin who wouldn't say or do infuriating things. Inhale, exhale, let his eyes close again.

"Simon… you're drooling on my head," Alvin murmured.

Simon promptly booted him to the floor.

"Ow! Hey!"

Even reaching for his glasses, hidden underneath Alvin's damn hat, Simon could see the red, profoundly annoying blur rubbing his rear end. "Are you done? Congratulations — you just got hours and hours more from me than you usually manage, Alvin."

Glasses made the fleeting, twisting look of hurt on Alvin's face unmistakable. The same fleeting, twisting pain hit Simon, changing his irritation to something he couldn't analyze.

Alvin, however, was back on his feet, pulling off his red top, replacing his hat backwards, trying out his usual smirky, cocksure mask… surprisingly, climbing back on the bed to sit next to him, nudging him with his whole body. "Don't be like that, Si. Not everything with me and you is a pain in the you-know-what."

"Okay, yes, not if we're both _unconscious,_ maybe…" Simon griped, perma-sarcasm dial set on high.

"I had a good sleep." Of course, Alvin's carefree tone had to contrast with his own bitterness.

"I had, oh…"

"…Hours and hours more than you usually get when I wake you up?"

Simon raised his eyebrows, blinking, surprised to realize it was true.

"Asleep or awake, you're pretty good to me, Simon." And startlingly, Alvin knelt up, lifted the stem of his glasses, and kissed his cheek with something that felt a lot more like tenderness than his ongoing threats. "...Thanks."

And there was Alvin, one of his most frightening expressions of all — absolutely calm and sincere.

Simon's fingers strayed to his cheek. It seemed he couldn't help smiling.

Just a brief, straying flash of a moment, Alvin smiled too.

He was still smiling when he turned away, sliding to the floor and padding to the doorway, and slipping into his typical self-serving tones. "Okay, shower, shower… hope neither you nor anyone else in this house was planning on using hot water for the next hour, Si…"

"Alvin?"

"Yeah?"

"Last night. What…?"

"Was I trying to drag you out for?"

"Exactly."

Alvin grinned, scratching his side. "I got distracted. Maybe I mean 'dragged in'. Hey, it'll come back to me. We'll just have to do it again! Y'know. Soon."

Simon hurled the stupid yellow A back in a red blur at his noisy, careless, lackadaisical brother's head.

With a lack of Alvin around, he shook his head again, fingers and smile wandering back to a spot his own eyes couldn't even see.


End file.
